


A collection of self-indulgence

by ShadeDuelist



Series: Shade in Undertail: The Undertale Sinful Timelines Collection [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles of Sans or Papyrus (and occasional others) of several AUs indulging in some solo fun.  Warnings per chapter may vary, the heavier stuff (the rape warning, for instance) is only applicable to the Underfell chapter(s).  Will contain copious amounts of smut, level of floof may vary per chapter but there's always some floof there.</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>- chapter 1: Underfell Papyrus - Pet the inner demon<br/>- chapter 2: Undertale Papyrus - Late night bloomer<br/>- chapter 3: Underswap Sans - Seeing the stars<br/>- chapter 4 (coming soon): Underswap Mettablook - Friday I'm in love<br/>- chapter 5 (coming soon): Underswap Papyrus - Echo flowers whispering your name...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pet the inner demon (Underfell Papyrus)

“UGH!!” The door slammed behind Papyrus as he stalked inside, kicking Sans’ pet rock away as he went. “THAT LAZY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SACK OF SHIT!! PURPOSELY SABOTAGING MY PUZZLES… THEN CALLING ME A FREAK… _HAH! HIM_ CALLING _ME_ A FREAK?!! I’M NOT THE ONE THAT GOT CAUGHT BEHIND MY SENTRY-STATION LOOKING AT BONDAGE MAGAZINES!! I’M NOT THE ONE THAT CALLED OUT WHILE TAKING A NAP ‘PLEASE, HARDER, WRECK ME GOOD NOW!’... HAH… ME, A FREAK, _AS IF_ …” Papyrus’ initial anger was ebbing away to its usual levels as he gritted his teeth and stalked to the refrigerator, taking out a piece of quiche that was left over from the previous night’s takeout, eating it in large, hungry bites. “I WILL NEED TO WORK ON A PUZZLE TO REPLACE THE ONE THAT FUCKWIT DEMOLISHED… ONE THAT GENUINELY SHOWS MY REFINED TASTE IN VIOLENCE, NOT SOMETHING AS CRUDE AND INEFFECTIVE AS SANS’ SPIKES ALL OVER THE PLACE…” Looking at the quiche he still held, Papyrus suddenly was hit by inspiration. What if he laid out a meal for any human passing by, and _poisoned it_ by something slow-acting, something that would debilitate their abilty to think, which would in turn make them easier to kill? It prompted him to laugh viciously imagining a human standing in front of him, barely able to stand, which he then easily cut down with a well-placed bone attack. “NYEH HEH… THAT WILL WORK PERFECTLY-”

“what will work perfectly, fucktard?” Instantly, Papyrus’ previous good mood evaporated and his anger rose again to dangerous levels; turning around, he saw Sans standing at the doorway, looking at him sarcastically. “what?! this is my fuckin’ house too, ass-muncher, get the hell over yourself-”

“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU, YOU SICK PERVERTED PIECE OF FILTH, NOT TO BOTHER COMING BACK HERE TONIGHT!!”, Papyrus snapped loudly, feeling magic itch at the tips of his fingers, ready to lash out at his brother. “DISRESPECTFUL BRAT…”, he added for good measure, feeling rather than seeing his brother’s jaw clench and his magic coalesce around his hand in a bright red flame, giving him ample warning to dodge the attack. “YOU SEE?! YOU CAN’T EVEN HIT ME, YOU SORRY SACK OF SHIT-” The second attack was less easy to dodge but fortunately a lot more erratic, giving Papyrus a lot of space to counterattack and toss a row of bones at his brother with enough force to push him back against the wall with a hard ‘smack’.

“u-ugh! p-papyrus, you fuckin’ retard!!”, the shorter skeleton cried out, grabbing hold of the wall, his eye burning red and illuminating half his skull at that point. “i’m gonna kill you-”

“KILL ME?! YOU COULDN’T EVEN MANAGE TO HURT ME, YOU SPINELESS WORM!!”, Papyrus snapped cruelly; Sans reacted by gritting his teeth and taking a step forward, only to get hit again by a thick bone that Papyrus had been keeping ready, his patience with his brother having waned completely by that point. This time, something crunched as Sans hit the wall, and he got up a lot more shakily. “GET LOST, SANS, FILTHY SHITSTAIN! AND _DON’T COME BACK UNTIL YOU LEARNT WHO IS BOSS IN THIS HOUSE!!”_ Sans tried one last attack - a Gaster Blaster, of all things - but it lacked strength and Papyrus was able to disintegrate the attack with a quick jab of the same bone he’d conjured before to hit his brother with, taking his brother by the scruff of his jacket and bodily throwing him out of the house before adding in a mildly amused tone: “BE GLAD I STILL HAVE USE FOR YOU, SANS, WEAK AND PATHETIC AS YOU ARE…”

“ _f-fuck… you… pa...pyrus…_ ”, Sans breathed out, shaking as he got up and then dropping back into the snow, his legs unable to carry him; Papyrus, however, didn’t pay him much heed, closing and locking the door and then waiting ten seconds before sending a bone up to Sans’ room. A ‘fwoosh’ sounded right outside the door and his brother ground out a lot more hatefully: _“g-go to hell…!!_ ”

“GET FUCKED BY AN ICICLE, SANS!”, Papyrus reacted, nearly aiming another bone in the direction of his brother but relenting, deciding that his energy was better used plotting his new ‘puzzle’. But after two full hours of trying to think up poisons that were slow-acting and non-lethal on their own, he just wrote down ‘go to librarby and look up poisons’ in spiky capitals and groaned in frustration with the amount of knowledge he appeared to have on the subject. Preparation was his forte, and to be faced with failure was worse than Sans landing a hit on him. “NO, IT MUST JUST BE SANS HAVING FUCKING RUINED MY CONCENTRATION…”, he told himself as he sat down on the couch and switched on the television, landing on one of the MTT humiliation shows by accident and feeling up for a little amusement. The four-armed robot was already blubbering away liberally, unable to react to the others on stage calling him ‘horrible’ and ‘boring’ and ‘classless’... “REALLY, YOU WOULD THINK HE’D _UNDERSTAND_ BY NOW THAT HE’LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING… HE MUST BE EVEN MORE DESPERATE AND WEAK THAN HE LOOKS, NYEHEHEH...”, Papyrus said to himself, removing his pauldrons and then settling a little more comfortably into the couch, watching the critics break Mettaton apart further. It brought a grin to the tall skeleton’s face, especially when Mettaton started to plead.

“ _Please… please stop, I can’t take this, i-it’s too much…! Leave me alone!”_

“HAH, AS IF… YOU NEED TO TOUGHEN UP, METTATON…”, Papyrus addressed the ‘celebrity’ on the screen as if he’d be able to hear it, shaking his head when more tears streamed down the metallic panels of the television ‘star’’s face. “HMM, I BET I WOULD MAKE A GREAT TELEVISION CRITIC… I COULD CRUSH THAT SILLY LITTLE WOULD-BE DIVA’S SOUL UNDER MY HEEL WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT, NYEH HEH HEH… CRUSH HIM LIKE AN INSECT… HEH HEH…” The thought of actually stomping on Mettaton’s soul container, crushing its cool glass exterior and sending fragments of it into his already-broken soul, made Papyrus’ breathing speed up just a little. Like every self-respecting monster, he liked violence and torture - who wouldn’t, with the way watching or even administering a good bout of physical abuse whipped up one’s magical energies like a whirlwind? Yet the follow-up thought was not mere physical abuse anymore: Papyrus imagined the pathetic four-armed robot whimpering and pleading with him not to hurt him so… not to break him open like that… and Papyrus’ mind skipped to _other_ ways of breaking open the robot: tearing off those spandex shorts and commenting on how life-like the infamous doctor Alphys made him while holding him down and fiercely savaging him. He could get off to that _any day_ , really, so it wouldn’t even be a stretch… “WHY, THAT WOULD BE EVEN MORE SATISFYING! YESSS… WATCHING HIM WRITHE IN AGONY AS I FILL HIM UP - OR WATCHING HIM COME APART AS I EXPOSE WHAT A WEAK, WANTON PIECE OF FILTH HE REALLY IS, SECRETLY LOVING BEING DOMINATED BY A MONSTER AS STRONG AND CUNNING AS I, THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS… NYEH, YES, I’D MAKE HIM _BLEED_ AND I STILL WOULDN’T STOP FUCKING HIM LIKE A BROKEN LITTLE TOY… LIKE HE DESERVES… NYEHHH...”, he said to himself, idly palming the front of his pants, which were by then glowing a faint red before he caught what he did and started. He _was_ actually getting off to that? “OH FUCKING HELL! THIS IS THE _LAST_ THING I NEED RIGHT NOW, TO GET AROUSED!! STARS BE DAMNED, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH THIS?! WHAT MONSTER WOULD BE UP FOR…” The honest answer was that nobody would even give him the light of day - every monster in Snowdin feared and respected him, even Sans, so they’d never even acknowledge him, and the monsters of Waterfall hated him enough to try and kill him while he’d be distracted. Even Undyne wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, he was certain of it - not that she’d even _be up for_ a wild night, not with _him_ , anyway… In the end, as Mettaton whimpered on-screen and Papyrus found himself laying back in the sofa, shimmying down his pants just enough to be able to stroke his magic turned physical in a perfect simulacrum of flesh-monster genitals. A tentative stroke had him bite back a moan that sounded too needful, but he did exhale shakily and spoke to himself in disgust: “NYEH… WELL, I GUESS NOBODY NEED EVER KNOW…”

“ _I d-don’t understand…! A-all I want is to… t-to entertain…!”_ , Mettaton deplored his critics on-screen, but in Papyrus’ mind he lamented being tied up and pushed face-down into the stage he adored so much. In his fantasy, the tall and angular skeleton was taking full advantage of the robot everyone hated on live television, and the thrill it gave him made his hand speed up just a little.

“LOOK… H-HAH… LOOK AT T-THOSE RATINGS, METTAWIMP… PEOPLE LOVE SEEING YOU GET WRECKED BY ME… AHHH FUUUUCK… Y-YOU’RE ENTERTAINING THEM ALLRIGHT… H-HAAAHHH… BY BEING SUCH A PERFECT L-LITTLE _WHORE_ … NOW _BEG F-FOR IT_ , YOU DIRTY SLUT… T-TELL YOUR VIEWERS HOW MUCH YOU _LOVE_ GETTING _OWNED BY THE BEST…_ ” Somewhere, somehow, Papyrus switched off the television, either knowingly or by accident, but the pained sobs that answered him in his mind were uninterrupted by reality.

“ _Ahh, n-no…! Noooo!!”_ Papyrus gritted his teeth and, while his strokes picked up speed a little, he pulled Mettaton up into an awkward position against him so he could growl into his ear.

“ _BEG FOR YOUR MASTER, PAPYRUS, LIKE THE FUCKING WHORE YOU ARE, METTATON!!! H-HAHHH-AHHH… H-HNNNNGH…”_ Papyrus found his every stroke exhilarating while indulging in his fantasy - a fantasy where Mettaton now finally conceded as the blubbering, shivering mess he was.

“ _P-please, master P-papyrus… p-please o-own me… please f-fu-fuck me… m-more… oh god…”_ Great sobs wracked the robotic body, but all Papyrus cared for was how tight Mettaton’s perfectly simulated ass would be around his magical member. That tightness was now being simulated to perfection by his own gloved hand squeezing the thick red length tightly, his fingers tightening their hold to mimic the undulations of Mettaton’s robotic insides. Papyrus nearly moaned loudly in utter delight at the sensation. His magic was a direct contact to his soul, so the slightly rough stimulation was enough to send his entire being into overdrive, magic leaking from him like water from a rusty faucet, dripping over the couch and making it glow in the twilight of the room.

“F-FUCK, YOU’RE TIGHT… AHH-HNNNN… N-NYEH HEH… DON’T THINK I’M GOING EASY ON YOU… AHH… A-ANY TIME SOON, YOU ROBO-SLUT… ALPHYS _MADE_ YOU FOR THIS… AND I’LL BE - _NNNNGH!_ \- D-DAMNED IF I DON’T BREAK YOUR SOUL RIGHT IN HALF THE WAY SHE INTENDED!!”, the skeleton growled out, his dick oozing a little precum that glistened in the dimly lit room, prompting him to add to his fantasy: “F-FUCK, I’M GOING TO FILL YOU TO BURSTING, MY LITTLE PLAYTHING… I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU _GLOW_ LIKE THE STAR YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO BE…”

“ _O-oh… *sob* p-please, please…”_

“PLEASE _WHAT_ , YOU GLORIFIED SEX DOLL?! PLEASE STUFF YOU FULLER? BREAK YOU FASTER?! _MY FUCKING PLEASURE!”,_ Papyrus moaned out as his hand sped up again, now fast enough to add a slight edge of pain to the pleasure he felt - and maybe it was subconscious, but his fantasy…

“ _P-please let me make you feel good, o-oh great and terrible P-pa-papyrus…”_

... _changed_ all of a sudden.

“ _I… a-all I want is you, Papyrus… all I need is to see you lost in pleasure… please, oh, please… All I can think of is you… you, deep inside of me… burnt in my circuitry, singed i-in my memory… ohhh yesssss… Papyrus, please, fuck me like I’m yours and only yours…”_ His strokes slowed down to draw out pleasure instead of desperately seeking release. The thought of owning Mettaton had been extremely arousing before, appealing to his natural cruelty and heavily reinforced love for violence of the most extreme kinds; but the new direction his fantasies were heading into, with Mettaton’s moans less pained and more pleasure-filled, pulled at something else, something buried deep within his soul… an anomaly, he thought for a second before his fantasy enveloped him again and he amended the thought to ‘an improvement’. In his mind’s eye, he shifted his position, allowing Mettaton to face him as he buried himself deep into the robotic television star. After all, with millions watching him do this, why should the star of the show himself not be allowed to see how pleasurable he was? How ready Papyrus was already, just from such a quick albeit rough little rut with him?

“M-METTATON, W-WHAT THE FUCK…? HOW… HOW ARE YOU - _NNNNGH…_ HOLY STARS, YOU _BET_ I’M BURNING MYSELF INTO YOUR MEMORY… YOU BET YOU’RE MINE AND MINE ALONE, LITTLE PET... F-FUUUUUCK… YOU’RE SO HOT WHEN YOU’RE OVERLOADING…”

“ _Anything for you, Papyrus… Ahhh… darling, you’re the hot one… those spikes s-scratching my chassis… ahhh! Mmmmh… and that scarf… a-and your teeth… ooh, j-just spread my legs and bury yourself deep inside me - uhhhhnnn… b-bring our souls to the brink and tip us both over… g-gush that beautiful blood red magic of yours_ right into me _, make me_ overflow _with you…”_ It was still hot and heavy, and certainly rough, but Mettaton _asking_ for it and _collaborating eagerly_ made the fantasy _all_ the more wonderful, Papyrus found. Well, imagining Mettaton spread open for him to take certainly had him aching for more. His magic-fuelled dick was crackling with energy all over its surface, a sure sign that release could be as close away as one breath, one soul-flutter, _one gasp_ … but Papyrus slowed his strokes to the bare minimum, keeping himself on the edge to fully enjoy this new and alien concept of… _consent and willingness…_ Shifting positions yet again, he lay down and pulled Mettaton on top of him, embedding himself with a slightly rough thrust that the robot nevertheless didn’t mind if his high-pitched moan was anything to go by.

“I WANT YOU TO SPREAD YOUR LEGS AS WIDE AS YOU CAN, METTATON… LET YOUR ADORING FANS SEE HOW WELL YOU CAN TAKE ME, HOW DEEP YOU WANT IT… N-NYEHHH, HOW _HARD_ YOU ARE, YOURSELF, JUST F-FROM ME FUCKING YOU SENSELESS… S-SHOW THE WORLD HOW TO _PROPERLY_ RIDE ME, AND I PROMISE TO MEET YOU HALFWAY EVERY - _NNH!_ \- SINGLE - _HAHHH!_ \- DAMN - _MNH!_ \- FUCKIN’ THRUST!” In his fantasy, Mettaton did just that: spreading his legs and showing the world how slow and deep he took in Papyrus, how expertly he drew out the experience, how he prolonged pleasure into something out of a dream… all while Papyrus thrust up into him perfectly attuned to the roll of his hips, hands settled on the cool metal bottom of the robotic television star. “...GOD… I FUCKING… GONNA… KEEP THIS UP… ALL… D-DAMN… NIGHT!”, he ground out from between gritted teeth, his strokes slow but his fist tight around his magic length, precum staining his glove and magic dancing all across his pelvis now. But no matter how much he tried to deny himself release, Papyrus couldn’t maintain that level of tension forever, and his deviously tricky mind pushed the fantasy right into the red: his mental image of Mettaton moaned and tightened around him, grabbing his hands and pinning them down on either side of his head as the metallic television star pleaded deliciously breathlessly and enticingly in his ear.

“ _You know, oh great and powerful Papyrus, m-most - oh! oh myyyy~! M-most terrible… no, n-not terrible… h-how could anyone call you ‘terrible’? Uhn… y-you’re amazing, Papyrus! Ahh, y-yesss... oh fuck, y-you’ve got me forgetting myself… you’ve got me forgetting_ e-everything _, Papyrus… ohhh! Ohhhh please! T-tell me I can have you i-in turn… tell me you’ll let me in… F-fuck me and tell me it’s okay to fuck_ you _in return, i-it’s all I need to come for you, oh_ please _, t-tell me…!”_ Mettaton sobbed with frustration in his mind’s eye, like release was being dangled in front of him like a carrot, and Papyrus felt just about the same after so many minutes of teasing himself with ineffectual fantasy. His hand tightening and his strokes becoming fierce once more, he gave up resisting and raced to the end obliviously.

“A-ANYTHING, METTATON, _ANYTHING_ , J-JUST AS LONG AS YOU K-KEEP THOSE DAMN GORGEOUS LEGS _WIDE_ … SO CLOSE…. N-NYE- _UHHHH-HUH-HNNNH…!_ F-FUCKING… TAKE IT… M-METTATON… OH FUCK _FUCK SHIIIIIT I’M…!!_ ” Release toppled over him like a snowstorm, and his magic made solid by pleasure shot out from the tip of his member, splashing over his armor, strands of it hitting the sofa underneath him, staining it a near-blood red wherever it hit. It felt like it lasted forever, just wave after wave of toe-curling, bone-shaking bliss, as his hand kept coaxing more and more magic out of him until the last droplets ran down over his glove and his head finally fell back against the armrest again - he hadn’t even realized he’d tensed up mid-orgasm. A few seconds were needed to allow for the last bits of his magic to fizzle away, and then Papyrus groaned feebly. “SHIT, THAT WAS… _FUCKING HELL_ , I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW GOOD THAT FELT…” The scent of burning alerted him next: looking down, he found the couch smoldering beneath him, his magic having lit it. “ _FUCK!!”_ , he shouted, running into the kitchen and taking the closest thing to him, which happened to be a plastic box they sometimes stored leftovers in, filling it with water and then splashing it over the couch. Instantly, the small flames that had arisen from within the couch died, and it had the added benefit of washing away the stains of red from there as well, though the scent of smoke and burnt plastic remained heavy in the air. “OH SHIT… NOW SANS IS GOING TO ASK ALL SORTS OF AWKWARD QUESTIONS… I’LL HAVE TO THINK UP SOME EXPLANATION THAT HE WON’T BE ABLE TO USE TO CALL ME NAMES OR MOCK ME…” Looking at the television set again, Papyrus imagined Mettaton throwing him a kiss with all four arms and he snorted. “TCH… _PATHETIC_ …”

“ _I don’t know, darling, I wouldn’t call the way you fucked me ‘pathetic’, oh great and terrible Papyrus…”_ , his fantasy-image of Mettaton answered sassily, and Papyrus allowed himself one last moment of indulgence in this odd feeling of complacency before heading up to his room so he could polish his armor and remove all evidence of the stains his magic had left on his clothing and gloves.

“NYEAH, THAT WAS WORTH EVERY LAST DROP OF MY ENERGY…”

 

 


	2. Late night bloomer (Undertale Papyrus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus is a very busy skeleton: thinking up puzzles, caring for his brother, patrolling for humans, keeping a clean and tidy house, cooking spaghetti, keeping up with the shows of his favorite sexy rectangle...
> 
> ...even the busiest of skeletons need to unwind from time to time. So Papyrus does just that, and learns a little bit about the wonders of the monsterly soul in the process.

“ _...and that’s the end of our music program! Goodnight, dear viewers, and remember to tune in again tomorrow night for another exciting episode of ‘Dancing with a Star’, where I’ll teach all of you all about another fabulous music style called disco!!”_ Mettaton’s voice was laden with excitement, but Papyrus took little heed of it, busy as he was. He hummed a tune to himself - quietly, since Sans’ room was right above the kitchen, where he was hard at work putting his leftover spaghetti in a container and then cleaning the kitchen and his cookware again - and dipped his hands, which were stuffed in his hot pink MTT brand dish-washing gloves, back into the soapy water. The last song from Mettaton’s previous show was stuck in his head, and that was the tune he hummed mindlessly as he proceeded to wash the pot.

“NYE-NYE-NYEH HEH... NYEH NYEH HEH… NYEH NYEH HEH… OH, SHOOT…”, he suddenly complained, seeing the clock on the wall next to the door indicate that it was already past his usual bedtime. “I HAD THOUGHT I WOULD BE FINISHED WITH THESE TEDIOUS CHORES BY NOW! ...OH WELL, IT MATTERS LITTLE! THE DISHES ARE DONE AND I HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF TOMATO SAUCE LEFT FOR DURING THE RE-RERUN OF METTATON’S SECOND MOVIE!! OH, I HOPE VIEWING IT NOW WILL BE JUST AS PERFECT AS THE OTHER FIVE TIMES I HAVE SEEN IT ALREADY!”, the skeleton admitted to himself as he took the remnants of the tomato sauce he’d scraped into a bowl with him to the couch, settling down into it and sighing when he noticed the fact that rosepetals already littered the rectangular body of his favorite star. “OH, DARN IT, I MISSED THE FIRST MINUTE… OH WELL, I SUPPOSE I WILL JUST HAVE TO MAKE DO WITH THE REMAINING EIGHTY-NINE MINUTES THEN! NYEH HEH…” Sitting down, Papyrus settled himself in the couch a little more comfortably, scooping some tomato sauce from the bowl with a spoon, lazily watching rosepetals drift past the camera, downward onto the rectangular body of his favorite star. He could feel his bony eyelids drooping a little, his energy dwindling as his magic, lightly called upon for ‘digesting’ the tomato sauce, warmed his bones. Sleep was beckoning alluringly… “N-NYEH… A LITTLE SHUT-EYE *yawn* WON’T HURT… AFTER ALL, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WORKED SO VERY HARD TODAY…” Yawning again, Papyrus leaned back in the sofa, closing his bony eyelids and sighing happily. “MMMH, Y-YES… JUST A LITTLE WHILE… J-JUST LONG ENOUGH… *yawn* ...TO REPLENISH MY… ENERGY…”

Head drooping sideways onto his shoulder and the empty bowl of leftover spaghetti sauce forgotten next to him, Papyrus drifted off…

“ _...Why, hello there, darling…” The rosepetals were no longer showering Mettaton’s rectangular body, but instead they were lazily drifting onto Mettaton’s new and improved EX form, the more human-like body smooth and seductive. “...My my, aren’t you a handsome one?”_

“ _M-ME, HA-HANDSOME?! OH, METTATON, YOU… YOU MUST BE T-THINKING OF SOMEONE ELSE!”, Papyrus reacted - it was only then that he found that he was genuinely there, sitting a ways away from the superstar whose metallic but surprisingly warm laughter drifted his way, preceding a sultry answer._

“ _Mmm, no, not at all, darling… you’re the only one here… and you’re the only one in my mind… Just me, you, and a shower of rosepetals…” More of the tiny red leaves drifted down onto the robot’s form as he sat up, leaning back a little, the dimmed lights of the stage making his chrome shine and his hair gleam. “...Oh, but you’re so far away… come a little closer, darling…” Papyrus complied, scooting closer, but Mettaton laughed again and spoke softly and alluringly on: “Mmmhmhm, no, closer than that!” Papyrus scooted closer, and suddenly Mettaton pulled him onto the large bed next to him, instantly wrapping one arm and a leg around him most seductively._

“ _N-NYEH? METTATON?”_

“ _Mmmm, I can’t resist… you’re just so handsome and shy, and that just_ gets me so excited _, beautiful… so here I am, your favorite superstar, completely at your mercy… whatever will you do with me?”_

“ _Y-YOU WOULD… L-LET ME DO… THINGS? LIKE… M-MAYBE, UH… K-KISS YOUR HANDSOME HUMAN-LIKE FACE?”_

“ _Oh, darling…”, Mettaton said with a big, mischievous grin, continuing in a whisper that had Papyrus’ bones rattle: “Kissing me is a good_ start _… but if you’re going to kiss me, do it right…”_

“ _M-ME-METTAT-T-TON…!”, Papyrus protested, but only for a second, and even then half of his protest got muffled against the robot’s lips as Mettaton pulled him closer into the embrace, taking Papyrus completely by surprise. Mettaton’s lips felt warm and soft against his teeth, Papyrus faintly noticed, and from this close, he could see the subtle grooves on the chrome of his favorite superstar’s cheek from his daily polishing. So well-groomed, and so handsome, and so,_ so _close… Finally, the skeleton relented and put his arms around Mettaton in turn, kissing him back eagerly. One hand came to rest on Mettaton’s shiny hair, the glove hampering his ability to threat his fingers through there, and just as he meant to sigh in frustration-_

“ _Darling, those gloves simply must_ go _… I want to feel your bony fingers against my chassis, I simply must!”_

“ _N-NYEH, O-OF COURSE, METTATON-”_

“ _And you can call me Metta, darling… or, if you prefer, call me any pet name you want… I’m_ all yours _, sugarbones…”, Mettaton said, and Papyrus-_

-plip-

_-removed his gloves and ran his fingers slowly through Mettaton’s hair and then over his cheek before kissing him again, tasting chocolate and whipped cream on Mettaton’s lips._

-plip plip-

“ _YOU TASTE LIKE STARFAIT, METTATON, H-HONEY…”_

“ _I can taste like_ you _if you play your cards right, gorgeous…”, Mettaton breathed seductively, and now Papyrus moved his hand down to Mettaton’s soul container, causing the television star’s breath to hitch-_

-pliplip plip-

...Papyrus’ eyes shot open to find the movie over, the credits rolling, and a slightly shimmering puddle of liquid right next to his femur on the sofa cushion. It looked a little like ink watered down with glitter-glue, and it felt just like that: wet, sticky, and slightly warm.

“WHAT IS THIS NOW? ANOTHER OF SANS’ PRANKS? ...WHY MUST THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!”, Papyrus said wearily, only to feel a droplet of something hit one of his lower ribs and he realized that this wasn’t his brother playing an obscure prank on him, but… “OH _SHOOT_ , WHAT…?” Pulling up his battle body, he found his soul glow a deep, perfect blue, droplets of shimmering liquid dripping from it steadily, feeling hot as they landed on his bones. “IT… MY SOUL IS DRIPPING? IT NEVER… DRIPPED BEFORE, WHAT DOES THAT…” Slowly, Papyrus reached for his soul, intending to run a finger very gently over the edge of it, which was apparently where the liquid was appearing from, but as soon as his finger touched his soul, it felt… “AHHH… M-MY SOUL FEELS… SENSITIVE… H-HOW IS THIS…?” Then, however, he remembered what Sans had told him once before about his soul and how it could get sensitive and behave erratically when he thought of people that meant a lot to him. He hadn’t mentioned the dripping, though, but that could be what he’d meant by ‘behaving erratically’, of course…

“ _...Mmmmh… Papyrus, darling… kiss me again… I could taste like_ you _if you play your cards right...”_ The thought of his dream flashed through his mind again, and Papyrus felt his cheeks tingle with a sudden burst of magic that turned the bottom of his vision a shade of cerulean. How had he started dreaming of Mettaton… like _that_? Because of the movie and the rose petals? Because he’d seen Mettaton’s EX form a week before and he’d found it a shame the television star didn’t show it off again? And why did it make his soul feel so… _hot and itchy_ , like it was yearning to be… touched?

Sans had mentioned that touching one’s own soul when it felt warm like that was something natural, but from the look on his brother’s face, Papyrus had divined that it wasn’t all that okay to do so. Maybe it was something like the blasters, something that people weren’t supposed to know about? Maybe Sans had told him that to assuage him? When he’d asked Sans if _he_ had ever done something as… odd… as touching his own soul, his brother had blushed as bright as ever before and he’d ducked out of the room without any kind of answer, so maybe it was something shameful?

“N-NYEH… I DON’T UNDERSTAND!”, Papyrus ground out, feeling more and more confused with each passing moment, until… Until he thought again of his favorite sexy rectangle’s more human-like form, and his soul fluttered and sent another pulse of heat through him, and he fidgeted in the sofa as more droplets of the blue liquid fell from his soul. Tentatively, he reached a finger back to his soul, and this time, when he touched it, he felt much better prepared for the way it felt. “N-NNNH… IT FEELS S-SO NICE… BUT IT’S NOT RIGHT…”, he muttered, and instantly his mind fabricated a response.

“ _Oh, Papyrus, remember what it felt like just moments ago? How incredible it felt when you ran your fingers through my hair? It’ll feel even better when you let this happen, darling…”_ , Mettaton’s voice cooed seductively in his mind, his fantasy gently pushing him into exploring this new and unfamiliar idea of gently scratching his itchy, hot soul. _“That’s right, don’t worry about it… after all, how can something that feels so right be wrong, darling?”_ , the metallic star purred in his fantasy, and that was all it took for Papyrus to forget any and all thoughts about it being wrong to gently dig his bony phalanges into the sticky, melty surface of his soul.

“N-NYEHHH…! I-IT FEELS… AMAZING…”, he admitted, pulling his hand back for a second to see the dark blue liquid running over his fingerbones down to his wristbones and even his radius and ulna, staining them blue; a second later, he found that he missed the press of his fingers and he reapplied them, his fantasy starting up once more as his eyes fluttered to a close.

“ _Ohh, darling, that’s it… just let go for me… ooh, look at all that magic! You’re positively brimming with it, Papyrus… go on, say my name…”_

“NYEH, M-M-METTATON… HONEY… I FEEL SO GOOD…” His fingers pressed deeper and deeper every second, the surface of his soul turning malleable like clay and slick like glass at the same time, droplets of dark blue liquid falling from the bottom of it in keeping with the soft press of his fingers. “M-METTATON… HOW C-CAN IT FEEL THIS GOOD…?”

“ _It feels this good because that’s your soul, darling… Oh, Papyrus, look at you… baby, moan for me…”_ Another press of his fingers, this time bolder and deeper, had Papyrus comply.

“N-NYEHHHH… M-METTATON… AHHH, H-HONEY…! S-SHOW ME MORE…”

“ _Okay… mmh, follow my lead, Papyrus, sweetie… slow circles… press those fingers in nice and firm… oh my, I’m getting so excited seeing you squirm, darling, it’s just so_ delicious _!”_ , his fantasy of Mettaton said, sitting over him and touching his own soul, which leaked thick, hot pink and glittering liquid over his metallic digits just like Papyrus’ soul was now oozing inky blue fluid all over the hand that rubbed slow circles over his soul in exact replica of what Mettaton was showing him. _“Ahhh… d-does it feel as good for you as it feels for me…?”_

“METTATON…! I-IT FEELS… UHHN… INC-CREDIBLE… N-NYEH… PLEASE, MY SEXY RECTANGLE…”, Papyrus pleaded, and Mettaton seemed to understand instantly what he was asking for: scooting closer, his hand squeezing his pink soul and making liquid drip all over the metal and chrome, the television star started grinding down onto Papyrus’ lap rhythmically.

“ _Ahh, Papyrus… darling, please… s-squeeze that soul for me… I want to see you as… ahhh, as beside yourself with pleasure as I am, oh, my sweet, handsome sugarbones…! M-mhhh!”_ , Mettaton moaned loudly in his fantasy, but to Papyrus, the lines of reality and imagination blurred and interweaved, and the burning of his soul in his hand was as real as ever before, so he wrapped his hand around his own soul and squeezed. First gently, tentatively, worried about the expression on Mettaton’s face - then, when that squeeze earned him a wave of spine-shivering pleasure, his fingers wrapped more tightly around the dark blue center of his being and squeezed harder, liquid running down his ulna and radius to his elbowjoint, dripping from there into his pelvis, and magic was now thick around him, sparkling off his bones and making the entire room bathe in a cerulean glow. His senses contracted until all he could see was blue, all he could feel was his own hand around his own soul, squeezing harder and harder and faster and tighter…

“S-SO TIGHT… SOOOO TIGHT...M-METTA… N-NYYYEH… NY-UHHNNNN… P-PLEASE, ME-METTATON… AHH, PLEASE… I FEEL… I FEEL… T-TENSE, SO TENSE… H-HELP ME…”

“ _Let go, Papyrus… let go now… l-let go with me… ohh, sugarbones… ohhh yes-yessss-YESSSSS OH PAPYRUS!!!”_ He didn’t know how he managed to accomplish it, but he reached out and closed his hand around Mettaton’s, squeezing together with the robotic star while also squeezing his own soul as tightly as he could. Mettaton’s response was to grind down against his pelvis _hard_ , and suddenly he felt something akin to a fire sweep him off his feet as liquid _gushed_ out of his soul like a flood, splashing onto the already wet cushion of the couch and drenching it a deep royal blue. Spine arching, shoulderblades pressing firmly into the backrest of the sofa, Papyrus gritted his teeth so hard he felt them crunch to keep from loudly moaning out the name of the object of his fantasy as said fantasy presented him with the perfect image of Mettaton sitting on top of him, shivering, robotic spine arched and an expression of dizzying bliss on his handsome features, and a sudden spurt of hot pink liquid drenching both him and Papyrus, dripping off his bones… then, slowly, both the image and the sensation faded away into a dizzy suspension, and finally, the fantasy dissipated completely, leaving only reality in front of his eyes: the television showing static, the lumpy couch underneath him, the empty bowl of leftover pasta sauce standing next to him completely forgotten...

“OH, W-WOWIE…”, Papyrus groaned shakily as he surveyed the damage. His entire pelvis was blue, as were his hand and arm - nothing that a shower wouldn’t wash away, he thought hopefully - and the state of _the couch_ was even more abysmal, its green cushions stained a deep blue, making perfectly clear what had happened there… “OH SHOOOOOT…”, the tall skeleton groaned emphatically, feeling suddenly worried. He’d gone into this without even knowing whether he could wash himself clean, or without knowing he’d make such a mess of the couch! How was he supposed to clean _this_ up?!

As if to answer his question, a thin trail of vapor rose up from the couch, and Papyrus straightened himself, looking at the stain growing smaller as more and more vapor rose up. By the time he'd put the bowl of pasta sauce in the sink, figuring the next morning was just as good a time to clean it as any, the stain was completely gone, and all that was left to bear witness to his indiscretion was the faint scent of grapes rising from the couch.

It figured his magic, even in that… _luxurious_ form, was self-cleaning. The stains on his bones didn’t evaporate, though, but he was fairly certain they’d wash out easily: it wasn’t like he shouldn’t wash anyway, since his day’s chores and work had had him working up a sweat that he wouldn’t abide in his beautiful snooze-cruising-car bed. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Papyrus picked up his discarded gloves and wound up the stairs, heading to the bathroom. It was only when he stood under the shower that he fully appreciated the fuzzy, warm feeling deep within his soul.

“...METTATON WAS RIGHT… SOMETHING THAT FEELS THIS GOOD… HOW CAN THAT BE BAD? ...THANK YOU FOR SHOWING ME.”

“ _I do hope I'll be around to see you let go like that often, Papyrus, darling...”_ , his mental image of Mettaton answered, winking at him, and Papyrus found himself feeling very thankful that the cool water of the shower kept his magic from surfacing on his cheeks. He still had _some_ standards, after all...

 


	3. Seeing the stars

Sans’ favorite room apart from his own cool bedroom had to be the Wishing Room in Waterfall. His first conscious memory was there, pulling on a hand that led to a dark, tall shape of a being he had somehow forgotten, his loud-spoken wish of becoming the greatest warrior in the Royal Guard echoing off the walls and making it sound bolder, more sincere and more _plausible_. His later memories included Papyrus, and sometimes tears, though he didn’t quite remember why they were crying at those times. His wishes had changed only little, too: he still wished to be the greatest warrior in the Royal Guard, but now he also wished to serve the fair Queen Toriel as best as he could, and he wished to be the most awesome brother for Papyrus, who depended on him to keep a tidy and efficient house. He wished Alphys recognized his merits - sometimes, because there were other times where he wished that Alphys would just go a little easier on him…

And sometimes, he just stood under the crystalline ceiling and watched the shimmering lights of bioluminescence do their thing, soothed by the calmth and comfort it exuded to him. As they blinked slowly in and out of view above his head, he found his sometimes chaotic thoughts ordering themselves again, and he thought about the more important matters in life, like how to show Papyrus a little more clearly that he loved what he did for him and how much he actually meant despite his bad habits… or how to get Alphys to finally see that he was the best for the job…

Now, however, Sans stood under the sparkling star-like lights with a _mission_ , clear as day to him. He had waited until everyone was fast asleep in Waterfall - not even the Riverman was up anymore, and even Undyne had gone long to sleep so she wouldn’t be checking her camera feeds. It was absolutely _vital_ that nobody caught him for what he was about to wish to the stars for. The second part of his plan for this wish was the fact that he wore his _secret_ outfit, the one he kept hidden underneath his ‘cool armor’ all the time: a T-shirt that said ‘SWEET GUY’, light blue shorts and cool dark blue sneaker shoes that were too small for Papyrus. Yet not even his secret outfit made him feel any less nervous and guilty for what was on his mind...

“M-MWEH… S-STARS! I, THE MAGNIFICENT SANS… H-HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT WISH TO MAKE!!”, he loudly proclaimed, sitting down and looking around despite himself; and even with no one else around, he spoke the next part of his wish very softly. “I… CAME TO WISH HAPPINESS FOR M-MY BROTHER, PAPYRUS, A-AND HIS… G-GHOSTFRIEND METTABLOOK…”

Looking up, Sans sighed and decided nobody but the cave walls and the shimmering lights of the ceiling could hear him, prompting him to speak and alleviate his churning mind.

“...Y-YOU SEE, STARS… LAST NIGHT… I HAD TOLD PAPYRUS I WAS GOING TO BE PATROLLING THE SNOWDIN FOREST, BUT I RAN INTO DOGAMY AND DOGARESSA ON THE WAY OVER TO THE FOREST PROPER AND THEY SAID I COULD HEAD HOME EARLIER! AND I READILY ACCEPTED BECAUSE I THOUGHT PAPYRUS WOULD LIKE FOR ME TO COOK HIM SOMETHING NICE! BUT… W-WELL… M-MWE-HEH… YOU H-HAVE TO UNDERSTAND, GRACIOUS STARS, H-HE AND METTATON ARE… V-VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT ONE ANOTHER!!”, he readily defended his brother from the spirits of the stars that were glittering down at him.

In truth, Sans wondered for a second whether Papyrus would put it like that if he were there, but then he shrugged. His brother was none the wiser about his being there, or the reason for it, and he would like to keep it that way if he could help it!

“I… W-WELL, MWEH HEH… I C-CAME HOME EARLIER… A-AND THEY WERE… O-ON THE COUCH. UHM… _K-KISSING LEWDLY…_ AND T-THEIR MAGIC WAS… A-ALL OVER THEM...” Sans could feel his cheeks burn with the ferocity of his light blue blush, similar in hue to the Echo Flowers in the other rooms of the Waterfall area, as he relived the sight when his thoughts touched upon it again. Papyrus and Mettaton were kissing, true, but not just that, of course. “...A-AND PAPYRUS WAS… H-HIS HAND WAS RUNNING A-ALL OVER METTABLOOK’S, UHM, U-UNDERSIDE… A-AND GOING… INSIDE… L-LIKE, PAPYRUS’ F-F-FINGERS? ...I C-COULDN’T SEE M-METTABLOOK’S FACE, BUT T-THEY MADE...V-VERY _LEWD_ NOISES… A-AND...THEY TOLD P-PA-PAPYRUS TO…”

Sans shook his head, unable to repeat what Mettablook had asked his brother to do to them… and yet, at the same time, unable to stop himself from mentally hearing the ghost plead for his brother again.

“ _M-mmmh, Papyrus… oh y-yesss, deeper… ahhh, s-so good…!!”_

...and then his brother…

“ _ah s-shiiit, metta… babe… w-when ya groan like that… mmmnnn… i’m n-not gonna stop until you’re seein’ stars w-with me…”_

“...I’M SURE A-ALL MY BROTHER’S SWEARING AND L-LEWDNESS ISN’T MEANT TO UPSET YOU, STARS! HE J-JUST... “ Sans sighed, remembering well how he’d confronted his brother about doing such lewd things in their living room of all places, and the explanation he’d given. Sans hadn’t understood a lot of it - but mainly that was because he didn’t understand why monsters even did such _lewd_ things in the first place. The ‘when two monsters love each other very, very much’ story had of course been told to him by… someone, he guessed… when he was younger. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand that those lewd things needed to be done for the obvious reason of making monster babies. But Papyrus and Mettablook didn’t want to have monster babies, they’d admitted that fact themselves! And he didn’t understand why Papyrus would do something so lewd if he was the one that had always kept telling him only to use his magic for his attacks!

Papyrus’ magic… Sans wouldn’t be a good big brother if he didn’t know exactly what his brother was capable of. The blasters, the bones, the blue attack… he’d seen all of them, in their training - well, what could pass for ‘training’ at least, because trying to get Papyrus to move was like pushing forward a slab of obsidian rising from the earth - and on the rare occasions where Papyrus had considered his life to be threatened. He knew the amount of magical strength Papyrus had was at least as great, if not a little greater, than his own magical prowess, and he knew exactly how it looked and felt because it was the same magic he commanded. But there had been something different about Papyrus’ magic in battle and the magic he’d seen his brother display with his ghostfriend. Papyrus’ battle magic was… fierce, and burning, and _sharp_ , but that hadn’t been the case when Mettablook had pleaded with him. There, it had been gentle and heated instead of fierce and burning; probing, not sharp. It _had_ to be different, too, because Papyrus had used his magic to swirl around his fingertips, _inside_ of Mettablook: it had seemed painful, but the sounds Mettablook made, though close to the sounds someone in pain would make - whimpering sobs and groans - were… pleas for _more_ … so they’d _enjoyed_ Papyrus’ magic so close to their soul.

“H-HE CANNOT… NEITHER OF THEM SHOULD BE BLAMED FOR BEING IN LOVE A-AND PASSIONATELY SO!! PAPYRUS TOLD ME HOW MUCH METTABLOOK MEANS TO HIM, A-AND WHY THEY ARE SO… L-LE-LEWD… SO PLEASE, STARS, DON’T TAKE YOUR LIGHT AWAY FROM THEM! WATCH OVER THEM, AND LET THEIR MAGIC FOREVER BE A KIND, CONNECTING FORCE FOR ONE ANOTHER, E-EVEN IF THEY DON’T SEEM TO… D-DO THAT KIND OF LEWD ACT TOGETHER FOR THE, UHM, _OBVIOUS_ R-REASON…” The stars offered no reply, but Sans felt like they smiled benevolently upon his wish. Relaxing just a little, he looked back up at the stars twinkling away on the ceiling of the cave. He had quietly backed out of the house again after seeing that all-too-revealing second (or two, or three - really he had no idea, he could’ve stood rooted to that spot for an hour for all he knew); then, after a run through Snowdin and the surrounding snowfields, he figured his brother and the ghost he so loved would have had ample time to either get decent or move things to Papyrus’ mess of a bedroom, and he’d found his brother somewhat ruffled on the couch, watching Napstabot’s live performance on television - Mettablook had apparently already headed back home to Waterfall via the Ferryman. Sans supposed it was years of living in such close quarters with his brother that made Papyrus realize in an instant that he had seen what had happened, and… Papyrus had talked calmly with him about not having wanted to embarrass him like that, about Mettablook and he loving each other deeply, and of him feeling like he could tell Sans how he felt like he and his ghostfriend were _destined_ for one another even if they lacked the incentive to have monster children together. “A-AND MAYBE… K-KEEP ME HAPPILY BUSY WHILE THEY ARE, UHM… I-INVOLVED… USING MAGIC L-LIKE THAT CAN’T POSSIBLY…”

“ _bro, you still hung up on it? ...all the other monsters stopped saying ‘eww’ whenever sex gets mentioned when they hit puberty… don’t tell me you never even laid a finger on yourself… never, huh? Never stroked your ribs with a pinprick of magic on your fingertip just so see how it would feel… never woke up with an aching soul… heh, i don’t know whether that’s sad or fortunate…”_ Those were the words Papyrus had used when they’d had their candid, brother-to-brother talk… and those were immediately the second reason Sans had come to the wishing room. Because there was no denying it: the laid-back and slightly teasing way Papyrus had spoken to him had sparked something in his mind, something that itched and made him feel uneasy all throughout the day. He had _no idea_ what Papyrus meant with that last sentence… how could it be anything but _good_ that he’d never woken up with an aching soul? And why would he even stroke his own ribs unless to feel whether they were broken after a training session - and even then, he’d _never_ use magic on _himself!_ Papyrus had to have no idea what he was talking about!

...Right?

“K-KIND STARS, GRACIOUS STARS… PAPYRUS SAID TO ME… H-HE SPOKE TO ME LIKE ME NEVER HAVING GIVEN IN TO ANY SUCH L-LEWDNESS WAS SOMETHING TO BE… WORRIED ABOUT. B-BUT HE MADE ME WONDER… W-WHY WOULD ANYONE DO SOMETHING SO… POINTLESS… AS CARESS THEIR OWN RIBS? WITH MAGIC? WOULDN’T THAT H-HURT? ...STARS, PLEASE… I-IF YOU GRANT ANY OF MY PERSONAL WISHES NOW, LET IT BE THIS: PLEASE… S-SHOW ME THE MEANING OF WHAT MY BROTHER SAID TO ME? H-HELP ME FIGURE OUT WHY IT COULD MAKE HIM SAD THAT I NEVER TOUCHED MY OWN SOUL… PLEASE, STARS?” Again, no answer came, but this time one of the ‘stars’ higher up blinked in a soothing rhythm that felt akin to the pulse of his own soul.

Sans didn’t pretend to know a lot about monster physiology, but he did know that the soul was to a monster what the heart was to a human: the seat of life, the motor of the being. But it was both _more_ and _less_ than a human heart: it was more in the sense that it was also the seat of magic, only showing itself when the monster was completely relaxed or, of course, when the monster was close to death; but it was less in the sense that it wasn’t physical and didn’t perfuse the body with blood since monster bodies weren’t as physical as human bodies. Sans supposed that that was just as well: humans were nowhere near as wonderful as monsters, or so he’d seen on Alphys’ battle training videos. They lived in big grey concrete boxes called ‘apartments’, and they lacked lava and snow in their world above the surface. It had to be so… boring, to go through life without having lava, or to feel the fresh crackling of snow underneath one’s boots…

And there was another thing that humans apparently lacked, though he wasn’t supposed to know about that. Alphys had a very extensive collection of human encyclopedic videos - her battle training videos were just the most-used of her collection. She also had videos on human psychology and sociology, on their history… and on their ‘anatomy and interpersonal interactions’, as Alphys always said before she pulled him away from the scratched boxes in her shelves. ‘Those are just on human anatomy and interpersonal interactions - reference material I got from doc Undyne… n-no need to check those out!’ But Sans had seen glimpses of them, when Alphys had been late for training sessions and he’d gone looking for her, and he’d waited just one minute before coughing or knocking on the door. And they were… videos of humans behaving _most lewdly_ , kissing and… touching one another, just like Mettablook and Papyrus had been touching one another, and moaning just the same as his brother and his ghostfriend had been… but they didn’t seem to be teeming with magic. Papyrus’ magic had been swarming the couch, swirling around Mettablook and their magic. It had almost been beautiful if it hadn’t been so incredibly lewd… and humans _lacked that_.

And he had to admit that the magic part of it made him… curious…

He had asked Papyrus about _that_ , as well, and his brother had answered honestly that it had just happened, that he hadn’t been aware of it at all, and that it was a kind of magic that couldn’t be trained, that couldn’t even be _imagined_ or _visualized_ without the right context. But it had been so powerful - unfocused, unformed, but raw and fluttering like Papyrus’ soul had been…

...Would it still be lewd if he just… touched his bones only once with a tiny little bit of magic? Just to see if it could conjure such strong magic from within his soul as well? He was alone, after all, with every other monster sound asleep in their homes… no one would ever have to know… and if it came to nothing, then no harm was done, he mused.

“S-STARS… F-FORGIVE ME IF THIS IS… WRONG… I-IN ANY WAY!...”, Sans said, blushing at the consideration of what he was about to do but at the same time summoning just a pinprick of magic on his index finger, and then, pulling up his 'SWEET GUY' shirt just enough to expose his lower ribs, he slowly ran that finger along the edge of the bony ridge. “ _OH MY STARS…!_ ” Instantly, he felt his soul throb inside of his ribcage, accompanied by a feeling like eating a perfectly prepared taco, only a hundred - no, a _million!_ \- times as strong. He couldn’t compare it to anything else he’d ever felt… and without even realizing it himself, his finger went back to his ribs for another less tentative and more sure slow caress that had his toes curling in his boots. “MMMWEHH… I S-SHOULDN’T… DO THIS… I-IT’S LE-LEWD…”, he told himself, adding to that thought a second later in a hushed whisper and with a guilty blush that would surely embarrass him were anyone around. “B-BUT IT FEELS… M-MWEH… SO NICE… OH STARS, F-FORGIVE ME…!” He couldn’t stop his fingertips from summoning up more magic and stroking the edges of his ribs, of his sternum, and even sometimes dipping towards his spine, and _oh did that feel good_ … His soul seemed to pulse steadily now, itching and burning in his chest cavity as though his magic had lit it on fire - it slightly worried Sans, but when he lifted his 'SWEET GUY' shirt up to check it out, he saw that it was sparkling with magic but not burning. No, quite the opposite: his soul was leaking droplets of liquid that stained his coccyx and the inside of his pelvis a light, almost iridescent blue the exact same shade of the echo flowers in the other rooms of Waterfall.

He’d only seen a soul drip like that once before, and the realization of now experiencing what his brother felt when he was ‘involved’ with Mettablook made him both hesitant and oddly exultant.

He looked in wonder as another slow, soft stroke of his magic-coated fingertips caused another droplet of the shimmering blue liquid to fall from the bottom of his soul. “W-WOWIE… I-I... _MWEHHH…_ ” His fingers took on a life of their own again, now liberally stroking his spine and his pelvis, which was even more sensitive. Magic began to spark around him, small rivulets of it cascading off his form and radiating around him - exactly what he’d been seeking to conjure, but by that point it had become secondary, pushed to the background by the pleasure the slight skeleton felt at the touch of his bones with his magic. Groaning, he looked around hastily before discarding his 'SWEET GUY' shirt altogether and then pushing down his pants until his knees, figuring that would be far enough away from the dripping mess that was his soul at that point, liberally drizzling the shining liquid over his pelvis and lower spine by that point. “OH STARS… OH M-MY SHINING STARS… I-IT FEELS SO… SO… W-WARM, SO GOOD… HOW D-DIDN’T I KNOW…?” The stars offered no answer, but their light shone benevolently down upon him, still blinking in conjunction with the now-hastening flutter of his soul, the swirl of his magic following but a split second after that. And his magic was growing stronger and more plentiful by the second: each stroke of his pelvis, each soft gasp he issued seemed to give rise to another wave of magic, which now washed over the ground around him. “MWEHHH… M-MMMMH… I C-CAN’T… TAKE THIS BURNING… ITCHING… TH-THIS _LONGING_ … MWEH!”, Sans moaned, moving the hand that wasn’t busying itself with caressing his bones to his soul, very softly touching it…

The resulting pleasure had his magic multiply and swarm out of him, crawling up the walls closest to him and reaching towards the crystals on the ceiling, which still matched the rhythm of his soul. Sans’ fingers pressed into his soul again after that first burst of pleasure, and with the feeling no longer taking him by surprise, he was able to make the toe-curling sensation intensify all the more. “H-HOW IS IT… NNNH… THAT THE M-M-MORE I T-TOUCH MYSELF… T-THE- _UHHHHNNNN… MWEHHH…_ T-THE MORE I-IT FEELS… LIKE IT I-ISN’T ENOUGH?!”, he loudly wondered. His gloves were getting soaked by the liquid now running off his soul in a steady drizzle, his bones were starting to feel… tense and brittle… “H-HOW IS IT THAT… _AHHHH…_ T-THAT I FEEL… LIKE I WILL C-COM- LIKE I WILL BURST INTO FLAMES?!” The stars offered no answer, but his magic swirled around him again, glittering and swirling like the water of the river, which was distant. Sans’ soul throbbed under his fingertips, almost pressing itself into his touches, and his spine arched into his own caresses as well. He felt like his magic was lifting him, causing him to soar up on an unseen current, towards the stars he was entrusting himself to, the stars that matched his rhythm… or was it the other way around, he suddenly wondered, and was that what Papyrus meant when he’d said to Mettablook that he wouldn’t stop until Mettablook was seeing stars with him? Was that what pleasure was: a gift from the stars? Something to be cherished, treasured… something sacred, not something awful? Was that why Papyrus had seemed so surprised when he’d admitted he had never touched himself like this? Slowing his strokes in order to speak to voice the thought, Sans managed to speak shakily. “S-STARS… I… MWEH, I UNDERSTAND… OHH, I UNDERSTAND…! T-THANK… THANK YOU… U-UHNNN… MWEH H-HEH… H-HNNNN…” He figured the stars would want him to give in to the feeling, and so he abandoned all superfluous thought and _relished_ the sensations washing over him. His strokes were still slow, but the pleasure they drew from him was all the more powerful, ebbing and flowing in the rhythm of the stars, making him feel resplendent with joy and so, _so_ much energy…

He felt like a bubble close to bursting…

“S-STARS… GRACIOUS, KIND… UHHHH… G-GLORIOUS STARS… THIS IS… M-MHHH… T-TOO MUCH… I CAN’T TAKE THIS… I’M NOT… OHHH… M-MWEH… _AHHH!!!_ ” A somewhat ungentler touch to his soul broke the tension he’d worked up in himself, and magic _exploded_ out of him in a blue wave of light and energy, filling up the room completely before falling away a second later, leaving Sans catching the breath he did not need and shakily remove his hands from his own body, marvelling at the sight of glimmering liquid all around him, staining the floor and… “O-OH NO! M-MY SECRET COOL OUTFIT!!! MWEEEEH…!! H-HOW WILL I… GET THIS OUT?!”, he complained loudly, looking up at the stars, whose twinkle had once again subsided to its usual slow and soothing rhythm. Sighing, he surveyed the damage. His ‘SWEET GUY’ shirt was splattered liberally with light blue stains, though only on the inside, so he could wear it without having to worry about anyone else noticing, but his pants were stained inside and out, so he couldn’t hope to hide those stains if he ran into anyone else… “MWEH!! T-THERE IS ONLY ONE THING I CAN DO!!!”, Sans said softly to himself, heading out of the room…

  
  


“...huh… sansy isn’t here… usually he’s already hyper at this point…”, Papyrus mused, scratching his hip lazily through his shorts as he contemplated going to look in on his older brother. Truth be told, he was a little worried. It wasn’t like Sans to sleep in at all - scratch that, it wasn’t like Sans to sleep, period. Usually his brother was still awake in the middle of the night, thinking up puzzles or reading jokes on his computer. Or watching another anime he’d borrowed from Alphys. Maybe he’d headed out early? “...huh… well, a trip to waterfall won’t hurt-”, Papyrus said, moving to the door only to find it open on its own accord the next second, ushering in Sans who was… _soaked_. Water dripped from his bones and his clothes, almost like he’d swam all the way home from Hotland - but why would he have been there in the first place, as Alphys didn’t wake up before ten in the morning? “...s-sansy?”

“P-PAPYRUS!! MWEH, BROTHER, W-WHY ARE YOU ALREADY AWAKE?!”, Sans asked, and Papyrus found himself raising his hands slowly. Usually Sans scolded him for not being awake before ten, and now he scolded him for the exact opposite?

“...uhm, i just… woke up?”

“N-NO MATTER! JUST LET ME PUT ON MY ARMOR AND WE WILL BE OFF!!”

“...aren’t ya forgetting breakfast, big bro?”, Papyrus asked nonplussed. Things were getting more and more strange with each passing second, and the tall skeleton didn’t like that.

“MWEH, OF COURSE, BREAKFAST! W-WELL!! JUST LET ME PUT ON MY ARMOR A-AND WE WILL BE OFF AFTER A NUTRITIOUS BREAKFAST!!” Before he could ask anything else, Sans was already running up the stairs and towards his room, and Papyrus looked at his wet footsteps in utter confusion.

“...well, that was weird… wonder what’s goin’ on there…”, he muttered, sighing and shrugging, ready to walk outside to light a cigarette until he noticed something shining inside the small puddle of water where his brother had stood and fidgeted. It didn’t look like a shard of ice… the color suggested an echo flower petal, but those didn’t gleam like that… and it gave off a faint aroma of blueberry-blossoms… “...sans… did you…?”, he whispered, and as soon as he’d spoken the words, the small blue shard of… whatever it was… fell apart with a small blink and a puff of more blueberry blossom scent, and Papyrus chuckled softly as he finally lit up his cigarette to mask the smell.

 


End file.
